


Skeletons and Closets

by seazu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seazu/pseuds/seazu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan was enchanted from the first moment he laid eyes on Dorian Pavus. But he has a secret that's been holding him back through most of his life. Can he sacrifice the connection he feels with the mage to preserve it, or will he expose himself for the chance of something more?<br/>Set parallel to the Inquisition timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue & one

**Prologue**

When bull said, don't trust the pretty ones, he should have listened. To be honest, at that point, it was probably already too late. He'd come out in a flourish of unnecessary histrionics and one little wink, and the inquisitor was toast. Almost quite literally a few seconds later with all the fire being thrown. Goodbye curtains.

He hadn't exactly entered into this whole inquisition thing with any expectations, or with any choice for that matter, but he especially didn't expect to find someone that would make his stomach twist like it did every time Dorian Pavus walked by.

Was it really just coincidence that half the time he made it to the top step of the library, Dorian was bent over the table, hands pressed into the wood and looking so focused on his work, with his brow furrowed in that specific way it did. “Oh, Inquisitor! I didn't see you there.” Oh, really. What a surprise. Sure you didn’t.

The flirting had to be harmless, Dorian seemed to do it with almost everyone, even those he despised. But that didn't stop it from having such an effect. Lying awake at night and hearing those not-so-coy little phrases repeated over in his head -- honestly most people thought it was political stress that had the herald up all night, _that_ was far less worrisome to him.

Of _course_ the attention is nice, who could pass it up? But it was complicated and after far too many weeks allowing himself to pine and to imagine and to flirt, he had to say enough was enough. The world needed saving, not his tragic sex life. So the idea of romance had to be put on hold.

Okay, well, those were his intentions, anyway, but fate is a fickle bitch because that's exactly when he was set on the warpath for Halward Pavus. Maybe he really shouldn't have stayed as long as he had, to watch their reunion, but the more he heard, the more a fire burned in Trevelyan. It hit a few too many nerves and he had to storm out of the Gull before he did something regrettable. In retrospect, that did look bad, and he really had no idea _how_ bad until he approached Dorian back at the Skyhold library.

He was leaning against the window, catching the light like he was posed for a classic painting. The way he looked, standing there, it took his breath away and he was stopped in his tracks for a moment, before he eventually managed to clear his throat and say, “you’re back.”

“It would appear that way.” When Dorian turned to face him, his eyes were just a little bit more glassy than Trevelyan expected and his stomach tensed.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really,” he said, without much hesitation. He was surprised Dorian was able to express that so easily, he was sure he would fake a smile and get on with things in front of anyone else if the tables were turned. “Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I don’t think less of you, more if possible,” he said, taking a step closer and trying for a look of encouragement.

That seemed to catch Dorian off guard, he blinked rapidly and a frown manifested, “I thought… the way you left… well, I assumed you were here to request that I leave.”

It was Trevelyan's turn to look confused, then, “why would I..? Dorian, I don’t care who you choose to pass time with. I left because I was angry, with how your father treated you, it struck a nerve, and I didn’t want to do anything rash.”

“I… oh.”

“I mean it,” his voice quieted as he said, “it’s less of a problem who you spend time with in the South, especially less so to me.”

He wasn’t sure if Dorian understood what he was trying to say, but he decided it might be a bad time to pursue the topic, he watched as Dorian turned away to glance out the window again for a moment. “My father never understood: living a lie, it festers inside of you like poison… you have to fight, for what’s in your heart.”

When Dorian turned back, Trevelyan's lips parted automatically, the words resonated in him all too strongly. He felt as though the man had managed to sum his life into a sentence and it struck as clearly as a bell, there had never been more conviction in his tone than when he said, “I agree.”

Dorian must have seen that when he took a step forward, and the Inquisitor couldn’t help but close the rest of the gap to cup Dorian’s jaw and press their lips together, firmly. There was no hesitation in the Mage’s response.

It was a few moments before his brain caught up with what was happening, before he processed that he was kissing Dorian Pavus, the man he’d been lusting after since he first uttered the words, ‘good, you’re finally here.’ He was softer than he expected, the tickle of facial hair not just as distracting as the firm grip at his waist. He smelled different than he expected too, like rich chocolates and that sweet tang of cherry, before now he swore he could only ever catch the scent of books covered by fancy perfumes.

He wanted to breath him in, keep him close, embrace that heat that was forming in his stomach, but they parted, all too soon. “I see you enjoy playing with fire, inquisitor.” Dorian eyed him up and down, and for a moment he felt exposed, but not in the way he normally did. Dorian looked at him and he felt oddly complete. “At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor -- it’s been that sort of day. Join me sometime, if you’ve a mind.”

Trevelyan watched Dorian walk around him, felt completely entranced as he circled purposefully close. He was captivated. And once that happened, they were set on a path, from which there was really no going back.

* * *

 

**Chapter One**

There was something to be said for that very particular stench of the Herald’s Rest. Somehow, despite being so far away from the stables, it retained that pungent earthy smell that should really have only be associated with Horses. Mix that with the sweat of the service-people of the Inquisition and the stench of ale and that awful stuff the Qunari drank, and it was quite distinct. And yet, the people there never seemed to mind, or it at least wasn’t something he overheard whilst walking through to find one of his companions.

It was a sensation like no other, to walk into a room and know that everyone knew exactly who you were, it wasn’t something that the inquisitor particularly enjoyed, either. He had never liked being the centre of attention, never liked being stared at. Going to the Tavern really mostly caused him some degree of anxiety, especially true in the beginning, but the longer he survived that impossible journey, the more he grew used to it. For however often he passed through, tonight was one of the few he entered with the intention of staying, even if it was just for one drink, just long enough to chat with Cabot about the spirits of the people.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one wrinkling my nose,” the voice came from behind him, so close to his ear, he jumped and turned sharply to be met by the one charming face he’d been actively trying to avoid. Smirking at him so much his moustache was crooked. Stupid, silly moustache. Sitting on his beautiful, stupid face. Only a few inches away. Did he have to look so smug? Clearly pleased for having make Trevelyan jump. “Honestly, inquisitor, it gives away your privileged upbringing, you might at least want to tone it down a little -- alas, I am lost to the plebeians, but there’s still hope for you!” This was supposed to be one of the few places he wouldn’t run into him. He was under the impression Dorian just pinched the fancy wine and drank a glass or two in the library some evenings when he had the mind for it.

It saddened the inquisitor immeasurably when he realised how much he knew about him without even trying.

“Dorian, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, trying on a smile which he was sure just looked unnatural (though, on his face, most expressions came off as unnatural, so who’s to say it didn’t just look normal?) He had really only been avoiding him for his own safety. He can’t have this relationship. Definitely can’t have a one-night stand. Not with someone in his inner circle either. He enjoyed the flirting, he decided, but he couldn’t allow it to go further than that.

“I can’t tell if you’re disappointed or thrilled, I’m going to assume it’s the latter because that’s how most people feel.” Dorian was joking, he thought. Maybe. At least he hoped he hadn’t read into the shock too much, and then the Inquisitor laughed and it came out as an awkward high-pitched rattle which he immediately regretted and just wanted to sink into the floor, die and become just one more stench mixed into the bouquet. Luckily it only seemed to make Dorian smile in that crooked way that shows off his lovely teeth.

Also luckily, Cabot picked this time to interrupt to say, “eh… inquisitor, yer ale,” as he pushed forward a tankard.

“Allow me,” Dorian said, purposefully leaning across the inquisitor to pay, “and Cabot, if you happen to find a nice red back there, it wouldn’t go amiss.”

Cabot doesn’t respond with much more than a grunt, but not much later, he did put forward a glass for Dorian, who smiled with all of his charm and just a little bit of spite. The Inquisitor’s smile moves from awkward to sort of pathetic as he thanked Dorian.

“Ah my pleasure, though I’m convinced given who you are you could have had that for free, anyway. But you _can_ sit with me, though, if you’ve a mind to. I came here for company, after all and yours is the very finest.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he basically mumbled, and had to remind himself that he’s not _actually_ a teenager and _is_ capable of holding an adult conversation. If he could close a maker-damned rift, he could open his mouth and form actual words, an actual sentence.

Dorian’s hand danced to the Inquisitor’s lower back and he tensed for a moment before relaxing into the touch and allowing himself to be steered towards a table. He wondered for a moment if Dorian was merely presenting him in the hopes that any table they head towards would be instantly vacated to allow the Herald of Andraste a seat. But he dismissed the idea almost instantly, for in his mind Dorian is many things, but he didn’t seem like someone who would abuse power for petty gain.

They did eventually find a small, sticky table off in a shady corner, just in reach of Maryden’s crooning, only just audible over the crackle of fire, and laughter and talking and occasional clinking of glasses. There was something quite wonderful about this place too, he mused, while glancing around at the throngs of people. There were refugees and soldiers and people of all kinds, congregating here, different strokes united under one banner. Able to laugh and share stories and meet and fall in love.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Dorian spoke as if he were telling off a cute puppy, with that sparkle in his eye, before he took a drink.

Trevelyan blushed more or less instantly and glanced down at his ale. He thought he hadn’t been quite so obvious but apparently he was wrong.

“It’s fine, absolutely understandable. You are the Herald, after all, The Inquisitor -- you can’t be seen consorting with the enemy.”

He barely left a beat before he repeated, “the enemy?”

“Well, yes. I am from Tevinter,” his voice deepened and quivered around the last word, and it made something in the pit of Trevelyan's stomach squirm. “You are the _Southerners_ hero, and we are the natural enemy of the Southerners.” Everything he said was with a certain nonchalance which Trevelyan interpreted as Dorian’s method of seeming unaffected by the rejection. That alone made his heart hurt. The last thing he wanted was that, he never intended to hurt Dorian.

“That’s not why--” he spoke too quickly and had to pause to collect his thoughts before trying again, “I’m worried if I pursued anything with you, if we had anything, it would be because of my title.” Not a complete lie.

Dorian quirked his eyebrow, he looked offended and Trevelyan knew he had said the wrong thing, “you think I’m attracted to your power.”

“No, I… that’s not what I meant-- I’m sorry, I just--”

“Relax, Inquisitor, I’m not some predatory whore seeking trinkets and validation -- if I wanted that I could find it back home.”

“Please, Dorian, please listen. All I meant was I’m not used to anyone looking at me the way you do. Before all of this I was very careful to pass unnoticed,” he chose his words much more carefully this time, now that he had a little more of Dorian’s focus past his slightly flared temper. “Now, people look at me, but all they see is the title and the symbol and the things I’ve done. There are very few who look at me and see a person, and you’re possibly the only one who sees more than that. I think.” He became less and less certain, and more and more quiet as he rambled on, keeping his eyes focused on the tankard he was nursing.

“Forgive me, inquisitor, but that doesn’t actually explain why you’ve been doing your best to avoid me since we kissed.”

He flushed again at the mention of the kiss because it instantly brought to mind the soft heat in his chest, the softness of those plump lips glancing against his, his scent so close. He ached. Where his fingers overlapped around his ale, one scratched the side of another, a nervous habit that accounted for most of the red marks up his hands. “Because I _do_ care for you. And when I care about people, I fuck it up. And I don’t want you to stop looking at me the way you do.” He chanced a glance up at Dorian again and some part of him was relieved to see the way his eyes had softened, but the glimmer of pity they held wasn’t what he’d been hoping to spot.

“I see,” was all he said, wetting his lips before he took another drink.

The inquisitor swallowed hard because he knew he had absolutely said too much. Admitting you cared about someone, admitting you read into someone’s non-verbal cues so deeply, that was not a good thing. Definitely not. Dorian probably only considered him someone he could have a potential physical relationship with. Ha. He squirmed a little in his seat, and looked back down at his hands, before eventually taking a drink.

He heard the empty ring of Dorian’s glass being set on the table, and he heard him stand. He felt the warm press of his hand on his shoulder and heard him say, “stop avoiding me, Inquisitor. I actually quite miss killing random strangers with you.” And he left.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t sure that the special treatment he was showing Dorian was intentional exactly, but it was getting a little obvious. Dorian needs new books for the library, Dorian gets an avalanche of books. Dorian’s friend needs support, she gets an army. Dorian’s favourite wine is running low, in comes a palate. 

The Inquisitor wasn’t sure if he was trying to apologise through this or just repair something he wasn’t sure was broken, but it happened. And he tried his best not to avoid him, but it was harder now. He felt somewhat embarrassed after their conversation in the Tavern. But when Dorian said there were Ventori he needed ‘taken care of’, he naturally wasn’t going to neglect taking him to The Hinterlands as part of the group there to extinguish them. 

This is what led to hours on end of the usual complaints about the weather and the supplies they brought and the insects and the uniforms. What it didn't bring for once was the usual style of bickering between Iron Bull and Dorian, it was different this time.

Trevelyan had a preferred group to travel with, he tried not to, but he just did. He liked to take Sera because she kept him grounded, he liked The Iron Bull because he was everything he aspired to be, and he liked Dorian because he was everything he wanted in a man. On top of that they were all excellent fighters and from different enough worlds that they had great stories to tell him. On top of that they were some of the few among the Inquisition who knew how and when to drop formalities and treat him like a person. He trusted each of them with his life. 

What he hadn't expected was the transformation from bickering to flirting between Dorian and Bull. And it made him… absolutely quite jealous. Now, he had told himself time and again not to pursue Dorian. He had told himself to let it go. But there was no denying that kiss and he couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed, even if what Dorian mostly seemed to respond with were snappy comebacks and occasional blushing. 

The Inquisitor rode a little harder to avoid hearing the most of it, just so he wouldn't get too upset. Of course once they stopped to make camp, Dorian slid off his horse and started walking around like Ser Jon Waine. 

 

Sera erupted into filthy giggles as she pointed and spluttered, “oi Bull, Mr Fancypants looks like you had a right go at him last night!”

Dorian turned, looking sharply at her, appalled, “excuse me?”

“If only,” Bull said with a deep laugh, which only made Dorian scowl at him. 

 

It only continued as the night drew in, Trevelyan was sharpening his arrowheads by the fire, stuck in the middle of it all, but feeling worse for being so closed off around them and seeming like ‘a right rigid arsehole’ as Sera put it. Which triggered even more flirty banter. 

He excused himself first chance he got and slung his bow and quiver over-shoulder before trekking up to higher ground, somewhere he always felt a little safer, perhaps because it was so isolated. He perched on the edge of the cliff, just away from where the trees thinned and watched the stars over Redcliffe. He knew he was being childish, selfish. Bull would probably be a better fit, it would be easy to take a step back and make the choice simple for Dorian. So why couldn't he just do that? 

The was a rustle from behind him, the sound of footfall approaching fast and in a flash of a second, he had sent an arrow spiralling in that same direction, without even thinking. A moment later it combusted midair and fell to ash and a voice came from the darkness, followed by a man, “not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting!”

“Dorian, Maker’s balls, I wasn't expecting you up here!” Trevelyan said, lowering his bow and trying to figure out whether or not to stand.

“Evidently!”

“I'm so sorry, are you alright?”

“A little faint of heart, but I'll live, I hope you're not sorry to hear.”

“Of course, not!”

“I was joking, Inquisitor.”

He nodded, and tried on a smile, but somehow even just being referred to by the title, from someone he thought himself close to, stung a little. 

Dorian stepped closer, a sort of uncertainty to his movements that Trevelyan didn't often see. He eventually perched on the cliff-edge next to him, and he felt his heart beat a little faster. 

 

“What are you doing up here?” Trevelyan asked after a few beats of silence. 

“Well, you ran off in such a hurry, I thought perhaps you’d stashed something delicious up here.”

“What are you  _ really  _ doing up here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He raised his eyebrows a little, with question, this was really one of those times he needed complete clarity in order to proceed.

“I couldn’t stand being caught between Sera and Bull a moment longer, I presume that’s why you’ve been trying to avoid them, too.”

He turned, surprised and let it show in his expression as he regarded Dorian with curiosity for a few moments, “I thought you enjoyed that.”

“Being taunted and ridiculed, oh yes, it’s always the highlight of my day -- why do you think I spend so much more time in the library away from the Tavern?”

“I thought maybe it was closer to your sleeping quarters.”

“Clever.”

He paused for thought, and looked back out at the dark body of land stretching from below them. There was a chill in the night, but he thought the heat in his cheeks might warm his whole body, especially when Dorian shuffled slightly closer.

“It’s freezing here, aren’t you cold?”

“You can literally create fire from nothing, Dorian.”

“It might be in bad taste for me to burn down a forest just to keep from getting chilly, though.”

“Try just a small fire, then.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Trevelyan.” 

“Then wha-”

“I’m asking you to keep me warm.”

“Oh.” That absolutely shut him up, and he stared at the mage, a little dumbfounded for a few long seconds before Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Must I do everything? Honestly.” He shuffled again, as if it were some big nuisance, until he was pressed against his side and nudged Trevelyan until he put an arm around him. “Much better. See? I knew you had it in you.”

It must have been bullshit, because he swore Dorian always seemed to burn a little hotter than anyone else. 

 

“Did you study the constellations?” Dorian said after a time as they stared out at the sky together, inky blackness pierced by so many flecks of light that only multiplied the harder you looked, infinitely. 

“Only when I was very young, I can’t remember most of them. Did you?”

“Oh yes. It was very important. Don’t ask why.”

“Obviously preparing you for this moment -- you know, when you tell me all about them.”

Dorian chuckled, seemingly delighted that his advance hadn’t been rejected. “I’m not sure I feel qualified anymore. Solas had a long, very one-sided discussion with me from below the library mezzanine about the constellations we claimed, and how most of which were his people’s. It’s no great mystery, is it? Everyone hates Tevinter for destroying and absorbing Elven culture. He’s awfully bitter about that, isn’t he?”

“He is,” he agreed after a pause, “it’s not right for him to take it out on you, you’re one person. He can’t blame you for something other people did. Do you want me to have a word with him?”

“It wouldn’t do any good, let’s just talk about him behind his back and speculate over why he’s so perfectly bald.”

Trevelyan chuckled, looking and Dorian with a certain fondness. When Dorian looked back it was that same expression that drove him crazy, that softness to his eyes that just made him feel so human, so noticed. In that moment, he felt like the centre of the universe. Dorian must have picked up on some cue he didn’t know he was presenting because he took that moment to swoop in and kiss him again. That warm, press against his lips was interrupted by the hotness of Dorian’s tongue running along the lines of his mouth. His lips parted almost with surprise but Dorian took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

He had never been kissed like that before, the intensity, the expert control Dorian had, it stirred something in him. But he was glad when they eventually broke apart, that nothing else happened. It was just what it was: a perfect moment. It was just something else to keep him awake at night. But he knew that they had fallen down the rabbit hole then, and there was no coming back. He had started something with Dorian and he would have to see it through. He just wanted to enjoy it a little longer before things had to get complicated, though. Was that so wrong? 

The rest of the expedition wasn’t so bad, after that. He was arrow-proof. Any flirting that happened, slid right off of him, because he could look at Dorian and Dorian would be smirking back. Their flirting went mostly unspoken, because for now, what they had was private, but that couldn’t last long. It really doesn’t take much for rumours to start spreading. And evidently, they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update, but the climax is on the horizon! Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for continuing to read :)

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been rattling around in my head for a long time, and it's something that's really very personal to me, which will become clear as it progresses.  
> I usually try to only post completed works but I've been bouncing between writing this and working on other things, so I wanted some motivation to keep going.  
> If you made it this far, it would mean the world to me if you could comment and leave feedback and thoughts and I'm hoping that'll encourage me to work faster.  
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, I hope you've enjoyed it so far!


End file.
